


The Pentagonal Table of Punditry

by sarken



Category: Fake News RPF, Real News RPF
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, Pundit Round Table, Pundit Round Table Plus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-06
Updated: 2008-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-04 12:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarken/pseuds/sarken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith introduces Rachel to the pundit round table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pentagonal Table of Punditry

Anderson set his Blackberry to vibrate mode as he took his place at the table, but he had barely taken his hand off the button before his phone buzzed with a new message.

"Popular guy," Stephen remarked to Jon as Anderson ignored them. "Bad manners, though."

"I can hear you," Anderson said, not looking up as he typed out a reply. "I'm just kind of dealing with this war in Georgia. Not to mention a really strange text I got from Keith earlier."

"All of his texts are strange," Jon said. "The man's thumbs are too big for his Blackberry."

"It wasn't that kind of strange," Anderson said, setting his Blackberry down on the table.

"Did it explain why he's late?" Stephen asked.

"It didn't say much of anything. It was just -- I know what it looked like, but I don't think it...you know, I'm just going to show you." He picked up his Blackberry, scrolled through the messages, and set it on the table for Jon and Stephen to see.

"That's...that's a smiley face," Jon observed, sounding none too confident. "I mean, by human standards, it's a smiley face. By Keith standards..."

"By Keith standards, that's a blatant misuse of punctuation and an affront to the English language," Stephen finished.

"Do you think he got laid?" Jon asked.

"Maybe O'Reilly had another sex scandal," Stephen suggested.

Anderson shook his head. "No sex scandal. And I'm pretty sure he didn't get laid at ten fifty-two this morning. Or, you know, at any point in the last seven years."

"I have, in fact, gotten laid several times in the last seven years," Keith said, coming up behind Anderson.

"If she was inflatable, it doesn't count," Jon said.

"Fine. I have, then, in fact, gotten laid once in the last seven years." Keith paused for a second. "Or was it eight years? Maybe nine..."

"Regardless of the specifics, a man who hasn't gotten laid since the Clinton administration shouldn't be sending smiley face text messages to...well, to anyone," Anderson said.

"But I have good news," Keith said, and he actually grinned and rocked back on his heels, his hands folded behind his back.

"Keith," Stephen said slowly, "I don't know how to break it to you, but any rumors involving Bill O'Reilly, the Bush twins, and a loofa..."

Keith interrupted him. "The rumors could involve Bill-o, Andy, and a loofa--"

"No," Anderson said. "No, they could not. Ever. Let me go on record right here and say that there will never be any rumors involving me, Bill O'Reilly, and a loofa."

"What about falafel?" Stephen asked.

"Only if the rumor is one regarding a mutual dislike of chickpeas."

"How can you not like chickpeas?" came a fifth voice.

"Rachel," Keith acknowledged, a hint of annoyance in his tone. "I thought you were going to wait outside."

"Not indefinitely. I'm hungry and you were taking too long." She took the empty seat next to Anderson, leaving Keith to fend for himself.

"We were just talking about potential Bill O'Reilly sex scandals," Jon offered.

"And, suddenly, I'm not so hungry anymore," Rachel said, folding her hands on top of the table. "What possessed you to think that was an appropriate topic for lunch?"

"Investigative journalism," Anderson said. "We're trying to get to the bottom of why Keith is sending out unusually typo-free text messages that consist simply of a smiley face. Any thoughts?"

"Oh, I have a few," Rachel said. She smiled knowingly and looked up at Keith, who just grinned wider. "But I promised I'd let Keith break the news. I mean, you are his friends. I -- you don't even know me, but here I am, sitting at your table. I'm sorry; I swear my mother taught me better than this. Hi. I'm Rachel Maddow. It's so nice to meet all of you."

A round of handshaking ensued, and Keith took the opportunity to pull over a chair from a nearby table. He forced his way into the spot between Rachel and Jon.

"Done now?" Keith asked, sounding slightly amused.

"I think so," Rachel agreed cheerfully.

"Well, now that Rachel has successfully thwarted my plans for a big introduction, I'm left with no other choice than to just come out and say it. Today, at 10:50 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time, owing to her own remarkable talent and my own remarkable influence, one Rachel Maddow is set to become MSNBC's newest prime time host."

"Congratulations, Rachel," Anderson said, reaching out to shake her hand a second time. Once her hand was in his, he said, "Wait. You're not on against any of us, are you?"

She shook her head. "Nope. I'm on at nine."

"In that case, I wish you plenty of viewers," Anderson said, and he pressed a kiss to the back of Rachel's hand.

"Nine o'clock, huh?" Jon said. "Look out, Larry King."

"The King is dead," Stephen said. "Long live the queen. Or -- wait, sorry, that's Anderson."

"I am not a queen," Anderson protested, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

"Whatever you say, princess." Stephen patted Anderson's hand condescendingly.

"If those are my choices, I think I'd rather be queen," Anderson said.

"Too late. I'm giving that title to Rachel. Rachel, you're queen of the nine o'clock hour. And Anderson is paying for your lunch."

"What the hell?" Anderson said. "How did I go from queen to princess to the poor schmuck who has to pay for lunch?"

Rachel cocked her head and looked at Keith. "Should I be offended by any of this?"

Keith shook his head and chuckled. "Welcome to the pundit round table, Rach."

:end:


End file.
